Credō
by Exactlywhat
Summary: Credō: Latin for "I believe." 27 short stories for 27 "credōs". *NOTE: Updates will be sporadic. I don't have as much time on my hands as I wish I did...
1. Credō

Okay... This is just an intro chapter. For every one of these, I'm going to (I hope) post a story. If there are any pairings/groupings you'd like to see for one of these, feel free to let me know. I may not use it, but who knows? ^.^

* * *

I Believe:

1) That we don't have to change friends, if we understand that friends change.

2) That no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you once in a while, and you must forgive them for it.

3) That true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

4) That you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

5) That it's taking a long time to become the person I want to be.

6) That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

7) That you can keep going long after you can't.

8) That we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

9) That either you control your attitude or it controls you.

10) That regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, passion fades and there had better be something else to take it's place.

11) That heroes are the people who do what has to be done, regardless of the consequences.

12) That money is a bad way to keep score.

13) That my best friend and I can do anything or nothing, and still have the best time.

14) That sometimes, the people you expect to kick you when you're down are the ones who help you get back up.

15) That when I'm angry, I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

16) That just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, they love you with all they have.

17) That maturity has more to do with the kind of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them, and less with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

18) That it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes, you have to forgive yourself.

19) That no matter how hard your heart has broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.

20) That our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, we are responsible for who we become.

21) That just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, doesn't mean they do.

22) That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

23) That two people can look at exactly the same thing and see something completely different.

24) That your life can be changed in a matter of hours, by people who don't even know you.

25) That even when you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

26) The credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

27) That the people you care about most in your life are taken from you too soon.

I Believe.

(And believe it or not, but that's from a sign in in a restaurant.)

* * *

Again, if you have any ideas, feel free to let me know. Honestly, I'm pulling a blank for a few of these.

Oh, and they'll be posted out of order. Just so no one freaks out because the first chapter isn't Credō number one.


	2. Chapter 1 :: Credō VII

**Chapter 1 :: Cred****ō**** VII**

_I believe that you can keep going long after you can't. _

Sideswipe was no longer conscious. He had lost too much energon. Riots had broken out around the gladiatorial pits, and, in the resulting confusion, the twins had managed to sneak away. Not without sustaining injury, though. Sideswipe's left leg had been almost completely severed from his frame, and, though Sunstreaker had managed to close off the leaking lines, the red twin had lost a lot of energon.

The yellow twin was not quite as bad off, only having sustained a number of shallow cuts, but he too had lost a lot of his lifeblood. He was struggling forward on almost will alone now.

_Get to the Autobots. They can help. Get to the Autobots. _It was a mantra that looped endlessly through his processor. The Twins had agreed long before this day that, if they ever got out alive, they would go to the Autobots. The Autobots would help.

As of now, though, it looked like they might not make it. The nearest Autobot outpost was joors away from Kaon when a bot was in alt mode and driving. It was close to an orn away when walking.

Stumbling through rusted, corroded metal, Sunstreaker refrained from thinking any of this. He couldn't afford to give up. His brother's spark rested in his servos. That thought alone gave him a bit more energy. _Get to the Autobots. What's that Sides is always telling me? Think positive? I'll make it. _We'll _make it._

They were gladiators, engineered to withstand pain and to last battle after battle, able to force themselves to keep fighting. They could continue on long after any other mech would have fallen. Sunstreaker used this now, to keep pushing forward, to keep going. His red optics were dull, unfocused, leaving the devastated world around him blurry and indistinct. He was moving on autopilot. One pede in front of the other. Step. Step. Step. One after another. The dull thuds sent shockwaves up his abused frame. Every line and wire ached.

But stopping would hurt more.

Step. Step. Step. _Keep going. Get to the Autobots. _

Sunstreaker's chrono malfunctioned and shut down. He could only tell the time by the sun wheeling in the sky, then the stars after it set. His vents came ragged and rattly. More than a few fans were broken or jammed. Sparks jumped from exposed wires. Energon dripped slowly from the shallow cuts on his chassis and arms, leaving faintly glowing trails along his yellow armor.

_That pink color clashes terribly with my yellow,_ he thought distractedly, optics flickering briefly. For a moment, he stumbled. He tried to get his balance, but couldn't, and fell to his knees.

There, in the darkness, in the rust and destruction, Sunstreaker almost gave up.

_I can't go any further. _The thought was almost startling. _Energy reserves are at 9%. Every system I have is on the verge of shutting down. I can't go on. It's physically impossible._

Then Sideswipe groaned softly, his fingers twitching against his brother's armor.

_But I have to keep going. Slag physical impossibilities. I'm not going to let Sideswipe offline. He deserves better than that. I can't give up. I _won't!

With a growl, he heaved himself upward. For a long moment, the Twin swayed drunkenly on his pedes, gyros whirling, telling him the stars were down and the ground was up. Then things settled, and he took a step. Wires spat sparks. Energon stained his armor. Gears ground together.

Another step.

And another.

And another.

One step blurred into another. His energy levels dropped to eight percent, then seven. A fan splintered and ground to a halt.

Another step. A thousand more.

His optics were malfunctioning, now. Lights danced across his vision. A wide wall stood in front of him.

And his audials. Someone shouted something about an intruder. A loud buzzing went off. Sunstreaker fell to his knees. No thoughts crossed his processor. It was shutting down. For a moment, he swayed where he knelt. Then he fell over, body splayed over his brother's, and everything went dark.

* * *

Sideswipe onlined his optics to the sight of a scowling face crowned by a gray chevron.

"Welcome back to the land of the functioning."

Sideswipe jerked back, fear written clearly on his faceplates, and looked around. A med bay. Clean surgical tools laid out on a counter. A couple mechs recharging in a few of the other berths. And... his brother, laid neatly on his back, optics offlined, half of his armor missing, an energon drip tapped into his arm. It was wrong. Sunny never slept on his back.

"Hey! Mech! Are you listening to me?"

Sideswipe cowered back into the berth. Medical bays were never good places. Medics didn't ever help him or his brother.

The medic frowned at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm not going to hurt you, youngling. You're with the Autobots. My designation is Ratchet."

Autobots. Ratchet.

"What's your designation, and the designation of your friend over there?"

"I... I'm Sideswipe," the red twin answered with a shaky voice, "and that's Sunstreaker."

"Hmph. You know, Sunstreaker over there was almost offline when he made it here. Not sure how he did it, carrying you and with energy levels at barely three percent. Tough little fragger."

"Will he be waking up soon?" Sideswipe asked as he sent a worried pulse across the bond he shared with his brother. Sunstreaker responded, barely. He was there, but that was about it.

"Yes. I've got him mostly repaired. All that's left is putting his armor back on and bringing him out of stasis."

"Would... would it be okay if you took him out now? And if I sat on his berth?"

Ratchet narrowed his optics at the red mech. "Why should I allow that?" He normally wouldn't even consider it, but there was something in this mech's optics that made him ask. Plus, there was their weird spark signatures. Or rather, the fact that there was only one between the two of them. "Are you two bondmates?"

Sideswipe let out a strangled laugh. "Sort of, not quite."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"We're split-spark twins. We're bonded, but we aren't bondmates, per se."

After a silent moment of shock and contemplation, the medic told Sideswipe he could lay with his brother, as long as he didn't damage anything or pull the energon drip out, and, though he would take the yellow twin off of the medically induced stasis, the medic would let him come out of it on his own. Sideswipe promised he would be careful, and wobbled over to his brother's berth. Laying down and curling up next to his brother, he fell quickly into recharge.

* * *

Sunstreaker woke up in the night, when the lights were dimmed and Ratchet was probably recharging in his office. Sideswipe woke up next to him.

"Si-ides?"

"Sh, Sunny. We're in the Autobot base. We... you made it."

"I..."

"How did you do it, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker offlined his optics and let his helm settle more comfortably on the berth. "You. I couldn't let you deactivate like that. You deserve better," he said, a minimal amount of static lacing the words, after onlining his optics again.

For a long moment, Sideswipe simply stared at his brother. "You did that... For me?"

"'Course. You're the other half of my spark, Sides. You'd've done the same if our places were switched."

"Of course I would."

"Now let me recharge."

A quiet chuckle emanated from Sideswipe's vocalizer. "Good night, Sunny."

"Don' c'll me tha'..."

"Love you too, bro."

Ratchet smiled from where he was peeking around the door to his office. He knew what Sunstreaker had gone through, to some extent. When there was a reason to keep going, little things like reality couldn't stop you.


	3. Chapter 2 :: Credō XIV

**Chapter 2 :: Cred****ō ****XIV**

_I believe that sometimes, the people you expect to kick you when you're down are the ones who help you get back up. _

Cliffjumper was slagged. He knew that. When every other Autobot in the area was out of sight, Soundwave was jamming the comms, and three Seekers were circling a lone minibot, bad things were going to happen. It didn't help that this was Starscream and his trine, and earlier in the battle, before he was caught alone, 'Jumper had been taunting them. Now, they were returning the favor, showering him with insults and lasers.

Yup. Cliffjumper was well and truly slagged.

"You Auto-dolts are so weak!" Skywarp sneered as he took a shot at the red minibot.

"Ha! You think?" his trine leader called back. "Wimpy 'bots. Don't have a single bolt among them! They're all insane organic-huggers!"

Cliffjumper refrained from snarling something back, knowing the only reason he was still alive was because the Seekers were too busy trying to outdo each other's insults. _Perhaps,_ the minibot thought, _they're too focused on each other?_ He slid sideways, hoping to make it into the nearby woods and leave the Decepticons alone in the valley. The Seekers, however, were keeping an optic on the Autobot.

"Nah-ah-ah, we aren't finished with you," Starscream called as he let a cluster bomb fall in front of 'Jumper. The minibot jumped back, landing on his aft, and the purple Seeker above him chuckled.

"Poor widdle Autobot! All alone wif us!" Giggles followed the two sentences, from both Starscream and Skywarp. Thundercracker remained quiet.

"Actually," a refined voice cut through the almost hysterical laughing, "he's not alone." The Seekers did a little approximation of a jump, seeing as how they were hovering in the air, and looked around. Cliffjumper, recognizing the voice, felt two conflicting emotions rise up: relief and even more panic.

Mirage. The one bot he had pretty much made it his mission to get rid of. The one bot (besides maybe Sunstreaker) who he irritated and made fun of on a daily basis. Of course, it had to be him. And he would get his revenge, now. He'd let, and probably even help, the Seekers take out the biggest pain in his aft, and then walk, invisible, back to the main battle and claim he had no idea what was going on.

A little panicked whimper was emitted from Cliffjumper's vocalizer. He scrambled away from the voice as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast, seeing as how he was still flat on his aft. He managed to do a sort of crab-crawl a few feet before collapsing.

"Who's there?" Skywarp called nervously, still looking around. "Show yourself!"

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" Mirage asked, still invisible. Cliffjumper could tell he was moving. "Why should I tell you where I am?"

"So we can slag you!" the purple Seeker answered, and his trine leader smacked him on the back of the helm.

"That's not a very good reason for me to tell you where I am," the frameless voice rebuked. "I'm not particularly fond of being slagged."

Skywarp snarled and started firing all over the clearing. Dirt sprayed up in clouds as lasers hit. Cliffjumper jumped as something brushed over his shoulder armor.

"I'm right here, Cliffjumper. Don't move," a soft, cultured voice whispered in his audial. "I can hide another bot with my electro-disrupter, but I have to reset it first. On my signal, we jump towards the nearest dust cloud. Ready... Set... Go!"

Cliffjumper followed the order without protesting. There was no point in it. Dirt enveloped them. There was a moment of simply laying in the dirt, then a funny tingling ran through the red Autobot's circuits. A moment later, Mirage poked him.

"We're invisible," he whispered, the words barely even audible for 'Jumper, who was pressed up against his chassis. "Hold on to me, and I'll carry us both out. If I tell you to do something, do it."

Cliffjumper nodded as he clung to the spy. After a moment, Mirage started moving, darting out of the cloud of dirt and running silently toward the trees. The Seekers were busy careening fruitlessly around, searching for their lost target.

Who was now safely hidden by the trees. Mirage set the minibot down and deactivated his electro-disrupter. Cliffjumper stared at him for a long moment, then turned back to the clearing. "We should take them out."

"Of course. Who do you want to take?"

"Starscream. And... thanks, by the way."

Mirage smiled softly, though Cliffjumper couldn't see it. "Of course. I will take the other two."

The minibot nodded, still facing the clearing, and pulled one of his famously large guns from his subspace as Mirage took his sniper rifle off his back where it had been slung. They both took careful aim and pulled the trigger. Two Seekers went spiraling to the ground, while their blue companion remained high in the sky. After shooting him down as well, the two Autobots returned to the main battle.

* * *

Mirage was injured in the battle. Cliffjumper learned this only after everyone was back on the Ark. For the rest of the day, he sat alone at a table, nursing an energon cube, wondering if it was worth risking Ratchet's wrath to go talk to the spy. After the sun set, he made his way to the Med Bay.

The red minibot poked his head in the door, glancing around to make sure Ratchet wasn't playing guard. When no demon medic showed, he stepped inside. First Aid glanced up from where he was rewiring an offlined Wheeljack's arm to his shoulder. "You start anything, Cliffjumper, I'm going to kick you out," he said, visor flashing. Aid was a kind bot, but when it came to his patients, his temperament evolved to something more similar to Ratchet's.

"I'm not going to start anything, Aid. Can you tell me where Mirage is?"

The young medic looked up sharply. It was no secret that Cliffjumper wasn't a big fan of Mirage's, and that, given the opportunity, he was rarely nice to the spy. Him asking after the noble's health was something that Did Not Happen. "Why are you looking for Mirage?"

Cliffjumper hesitated; again, something that wasn't exactly common with the red minibot. "I... He helped me out today. I was wondering why."

First Aid stared at him for a couple of minutes. Was it worth the risk? Perhaps he should ask Mirage if he was willing to see the minibot.

::First Aid to Mirage.::

::Mirage here. What is it, Aid?::

::Um... Cliffjumper wants to see you. Is... is that okay?::

::I suppose so. Send him in.::

"Mirage is in room 3B. Go ahead... And Cliffjumper? Hound is in there. He stays in there."

The minibot shifted uncertainly for a moment before nodding. "Understood. Thanks, Aid."

The medic nodded and turned back to the prone form of Wheeljack. Cliffjumper slowly walked toward the small private room marked 3B. The door opened for him, and he stepped inside.

"Hello, Cliffjumper," Mirage called from his place on the berth. Hound, sitting beside him, cast a curious look at the minbot.

"Hey, Mirage."

There was a long, awkward silence. Then, "Can I help you?"

"I... I was just curious. Why didn't you let the Seekers just finish me off today?"

The former noble examined Cliffjumper for a moment before answering. "It was the right thing to do. As an Autobot, I could not simply stand by and watch them kill you."

"But I'm the biggest pain in your aft! I' m constantly accusing you of being a traitor, I'm never exactly kind to you... Honestly, I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd done nothing."

Cliffjumper suddenly found his pedes very interesting. Hound and Mirage shared a loaded glance before the spy struggled to stand up. He managed, though it was a slow and laborious process, and walked slowly, carefully, over to the minibot.

"Cliffjumper, I protected you because we are comrades, even if we are not friends. I am loyal to the Autobot cause, whether you believe it or not."

The minibot finally looked up at the noble. "I... Thank you."

With a soft smile, Mirage nodded. "Of course. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm tired. I need to rest."

Cliffjumper nodded and turned toward the door. He cast one last glance at the noble as he left, then the door closed between them. He turned and walked out of the Med Bay, First Aid watching him curiously. The minibot was oblivious to the medbot's examination, though.

Thoughts and emotions whirled through his processor. Most prominent among them was wonder. Mirage had saved him, despite everything he had ever done against the spy. Maybe... Maybe Mirage wasn't that bad after all.

* * *

I hope anyone reading this enjoys! And if you have any suggestions (either on writing style or topics or whatever), I'd love to hear them. One reason I write here is to learn how to write and to improve whatever skills I've got now. So constructive criticism is appreciated. ^.^


	4. Chapter 3 :: Credō III

**Chapter 3 :: Cred****ō****III**

_I believe that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love. _

Optimus stared up at the sky, the setting sun's light glimmering on his red and blue armor. Stars were dancing overhead, millions upon millions of them. There was no atmosphere on this little asteroid to block their light.

One star in particular drew the Prime's attention. The star Cybertron orbited, so far away from the rock they were on now. Cybertron, where Elita-One was currently stationed. Optimus reached out over their bond, stretching, straining for some kind of contact. His only reward was the faintest sense that _someone_ was there. No emotions or thoughts carried over, and, when he returned to himself, Optimus felt even more alone than he had before.

::Hey, Op,:: someone called over a comm link, as there was no atmosphere for them to speak through. Jazz sauntered up next to the Autobot leader, a soft smile on his faceplates. ::Missin' 'Lita?::

::Of course I am, just as you miss Prowl.::

The silver saboteur's smile turned bitter as he shrugged. ::Sure Ah am. But 's much 's Ah wanna go back, we've gotta keep goin'. Ratch' sent meh t' ge'cha. He finished with th' energon ya wanted.::

::Thank you for alerting me, Jazz. I will be there in a moment.::

::Alrighty, Prime,:: the saboteur said as he turned and wandered back to the three other Autobots sitting a short distance away.

For another long moment, Optimus stared at the stars. ~I love you, Elita,~ he said to the silent bond, trying to push it past the distance. ~I always will. I look forward to the orn we will see each other again.~

He turned and walked back to Ratchet, Ironhide, Bumblebee, and Jazz. Until they found the AllSpark and returned to Cybertron, he would be separated from her.

_All the more reason to keep searching, then,_ he thought to himself as he accepted a cube of energon from the medic.

* * *

Jazz watched as his leader left the small party to stand and watch the stars. They had just landed on this dinky little planet. No life, no water, no anything, actually, except a few rocks and some space dust, though unlike many of the places they had visited, this planet had an atmosphere.

Just like any other time they landed, Optimus Prime took a few moments of his time to stare in the direction of Cybertron and his bondmate.

Cybertron and its star, however, were far from sight now. They had traveled far, and could no longer see it. Their bonds were quiet and close to empty, only the facts that the mechs on the mission weren't deactivated and that there was no pain telling them their bonded was still there.

Optimus vented softly and spoke quietly to himself. "I miss you, my dear Elita. Our search for the AllSpark takes us farther from you and Cybertron every joor. But I will see you again, Love. Wait for me..."

After a long, pregnant pause, as though waiting for a reply, the Prime vented again and turned around, rejoining his companions. This planet was not where the AllSpark was, and after a short rest, they would continue on.

* * *

Vorns passed. They visited another planet. And another. And thousands more. This one with organic lifeforms so large that they towered over Optimus Prime. That one lifeless. This one with life forms so small they couldn't be seen.

Planets, asteroids, little fragging _rocks in space. _Places devoid of any kind of life, other places teeming with it.

But no AllSpark, and no bondmates. It was really getting to them all. Optimus was missing Elita. Jazz was missing Prowl. Ironhide was missing Chromia. Ratchet was missing Wheeljack. Bumblebee, while not bonded, was missing Arcee, who he had been rather close to before they had left. They all had someone they were missing.

Each of them had a different way of showing it. Prime would "talk" to Elita every night, knowing she would not be able to hear. He recited the day's events, always ending with something along the lines of, "I miss you, love you, need you." Jazz would throw himself into any culture they came across, learning the languages, their habits, but most of all, their music. Then, when they passed on, he would continue playing it, writing love songs to his Prowl. Ratchet cared for the four bots under his care with an intensity bordering on obsessive, and would often wait for remarks from Wheeljack that never came. Ironhide blasted off his tension by practicing shooting whenever possible. He knew Chromia would be doing something similar in her spare time.

It was an unspoken agreement, though, that none mention the missing bondmates.

* * *

Almost ten vorns passed as they explored space, met new species, and discovered new planets before they found one little planet in particular. The third planet from a star, able to support organic life. One moon, lots of water. And a sentient species called "Homo sapiens".

And, best of all, the AllSpark.

Decades passed after Megatron was killed and Optimus Prime sent his message out among the stars. The humans and the Autobots created an alliance, and continued fighting and eliminating whatever Decepticon forces remained.

It was after William Lennox and his wife had died, and their daughter Annabelle was the happy mother of two and grandmother of five, that the NEST team and their Autobot allies got the news that a huge Autobot ship was landing on the moon, and that the bots inside would be entering Earth's atmosphere in less than three days.

* * *

Optimus was waiting eagerly with his CMO, Head of Special Operations, and Weapons Specialist. They could all feel their bondmates getting ever closer, and they couldn't wait to feel them at their sides again. It had been too long since they had last seen their partners.

Streaks of fire hissed across the sky. Five, then ten, then twenty. The Autobots had abandoned Cybertron. It was a dead planet. They would live on Earth now.

The Autobots in cometary landing forms smacked into the water, some skipping, some sinking, sending spray and steam into the air. The Autobots already on earth were waiting eagerly on the shore of Diego Garcia for the new arrivals to join them. One by one, they did so, rising from the water and greeting friends, lovers, and bondmates they hadn't seen in vorns.

One bot with flashing helm fins leapt at the medic and clung to him, before Ratchet dragged his bondmate, Wheeljack, away to his- to their quarters. A doorwinged mech saluted the Prime before he was tackled back into the water by a certain silver saboteur and engaged in a passionate kiss. Ironhide and Chromia met with a hug and a fondle, which evolved into a wrestling match before they, too, left. Other bots paired off or gathered in groups until Optimus Prime was left standing alone on the shore.

A single comet streaked through the sky. The last of the Autobots to leave the Ark and the moon. It splashed down, skipping across the waves before sinking, and, a few moments later, rising and walking to the shore. There, she wasted no time in jumping her mate.

"Elita, Elita, Elita, Elita!" he chanted as she simply clung to him. "My Elita. My love. I will never leave you again. Primus, I missed you! Elita... Lita..."

They nuzzled together, and both smiled as their sparks began to, for the first time in vorns, beat at the same tempo.

~I love you. I need you. I missed you. Don't leave.~

The two leaders, like most of the other pairs, retreated to their quarters.

Almost a full day later, as they lay together, they spoke.

"I missed you, Optimus."

"And I, you, Elita."

"I love you, Optimus."

"And I, you, love. I have said so every night since we left, and I will continue saying it."

A small chuckle. "That time didn't diminish it at all?"

Optimus smiled softly in the darkness as he turned to kiss his bondmate. "The humans have a saying, Love; 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. I love you, Elita, and I always will."


	5. Chapter 4 :: Credō XXIII

AN: Short chapter today. *shrugs*

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4 :: Cred****ō********XXIII**

_I believe that two people can look at exactly the same thing and see something completely different. _

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Mirage looked over at the yellow frontliner, a frown on his face. "What do you mean, Sunstreaker?"

"The sunset. We never had any like _this_ on Cybertron. Sure, they were beautiful as well, but this... It is even more so."

"All I see is hydrogen dioxide in the atmosphere bending light rays. _Water_ that will make me rust."

Sunstreaker didn't bother turning away from the brilliant, blood-red sky as he responded. "Sure, it'll rust us, but only if we let it. And look at the colors, Mirage! See how they blend into one another, how they span almost the whole rainbow?" This was the most energetic the spy had ever seen the frontliner outside of battle. It surprised him. "See how the light reflects off the water? How it shifts and makes it an entirely new image, even though it's just a broken reflection of what's above it?"

"I thought you, more than anyone else, would hate this planet, Sunstreaker. So much mud, so many opportunities to scratch your paint..."

The ex-gladiator glanced at his companion. "Of course I hate the mud. But there are so many beautiful things here on Earth. Both naturally occurring and constructed by the humans. Google the Taj Mahal. Or Niagara Falls. Or any of the other wonders of this world. It is amazing, beautuful, Mirage! It makes me want to get out my paints again. I... I haven't felt that urge in vorns."

Mirage glanced at Sunstreaker, who had a wistful look on his faceplates. "Should you decide to do so, I would greatly appreciate one of your works. You were my favorite artist before the war."

Sunstreaker nodded, taking the compliment modestly. The spy blinked. Modesty was not often a trait assigned to the narcissistic frontliner.

"And..." Mirage added, a smile on his face as he looked back out at the horizon. The sun was gone now, only a thin strip of red lining the edge of the water. Stars twinkled above the two Autobots. "Perhaps you will be able to convince me of the beauty of this planet."

Sunstreaker glanced at the former noble. "Right," he snorted. "Like that would ever happen. You're in love with Cybertron."

"We aren't ever going back, Sunstreaker. Getting to know this planet would be a good idea. So I ask you, lend me your optics. Show me what you see. Paint again."

Another snort from the Twin, but he said nothing, instead keeping his optics on the dark horizon. "Maybe."

Mirage smiled and turned away, but he didn't leave. "Sunstreaker... I will never know how two people can look at the exact same thing and see something so completely different, but I am glad for the fact that we do." A wry smile twisted the spy's face. "I'm glad you can see the good side."

Sunny shook his helm. "I just see what's there, Mirage. Maybe I'm just a bit more observant, but I don't see just the good side."

"But you do see it. I don't always."

Sunstreaker looked at the noble. "Well. Help me get some paint, and maybe I can help you see."


	6. Chapter 5 :: Credō XV

Thanks to LadyAnatar for proofreading! And thanks to anyone who's reviewed! You make me smile!

* * *

**Chapter 5 :: Cred****ō XV**

_I believe that when I'm angry, I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel._

Sideswipe looked on, horrified, as everything went wrong. The paint had been meant for Tracks, but Prowl had deviated from his schedule for a reason known only to him. Unsuspecting, unaware, he walked down the hall, and the paint – bright, neon green – was dumped on him from above.

The force of a full bucket's worth of thick, dense, heavy-duty paint splashed onto Prowl's sensor panels. The Praxian jerked, optics almost comically wide, if it weren't for the situation. He jumped forward.

Or tried to. The paint had spattered over the ground. Wet paint is slippery. Prowl discovered this as he flailed for balance after his attempted lurch forward. His arms windmilling, he tried to lift a leg and set his pede down outside the paint spill. Instead, he overbalanced, and his doorwings were introduced to the floor.

For a long moment, the tactician stayed where he was. His vents worked overtime, spattering paint on the walls and the floor. A pained whine rumbled from Prowl's vocalizer, and Sideswipe jumped into motion.

"Prowl! Prowl, are you alright?"

The tactician snarled at the Twin as he slid to a stop. "No. Help me up."

Surprised, Sideswipe did as ordered and offered Prowl his servo. Prowl took it and heaved himself up, emitting another moan. He twitched his doorwings and winced.

"Prowl, are you okay?"

"I fell on my fragging doorwings. What do you think?" he growled in response. Sideswipe was stunned. He had never heard Prowl curse, nor had he ever seen him lose his temper.

"I... Um..."

Prowl scowled. "Just help me get to the Med Bay."

"Med Bay?" Sideswipe echoed. "Why?"

Venting heavily, Prowl let go of the arm he was still clinging to and took a step, only to wobble precariously. His doorwings twitched and fluttered, but he could not find his balance. Ten more steps, and it was obvious to Sideswipe that, without their doorwings, or at least with them disabled or injured, a Praxian walked like a mech severely over-energized.

The red Twin stepped forward and offered the tactician his arm again. "I see," he said, a slight smile on his faceplates, "why you wanted my help."

Prowl's scowl deepened. "Just get me to the slagging Med Bay."

* * *

The next day, after Prowl had been repaired, Sideswipe was called up to the Second in Command's office. He walked slowly, reluctant for once to receive his punishment. Every other time, he could trust that the tactician would hand out punishment fairly and without bias. But Prowl had been _angry_. Prowl was never angry. _Ever._

It was a death-march. The mechs in the hallways, all of whom knew what he had done, courtesy of the Autobot grapevine, stood out of his way. It was a slow, steady walk to the noose. And Sideswipe knew it.

He reached Prowl's office and pinged the SiC for admittance.

"Enter," the tactician called, and Sideswipe allowed himself a klik before doing as commanded.

"Um. Hi, Prowl."

"Sideswipe. Sit, please."

Sideswipe sat.

Prowl ignored him for the longest time. The Twin constantly checked his chronometer, feeling as though the time going by wasn't going by quite fast enough. Did Prowl have some secret power none of the others were aware of – specifically, could he slow time? It would sure explain how he got through the paperwork of what seemed like ten mechs in half the time said ten mechs would take.

Finally, after what felt like joors but was really only about five breems, Prowl looked up.

"Do you know why you are here, Sideswipe?"

"I played a prank."

Prowl arched an optic ridge. "Correct. And?"

Sideswipe bowed his head, as close to ashamed as he could be. "Someone got hurt."

"Namely myself, but again, correct. I believe you know the punishment for such?"

"Orn in the brig." Sideswipe paused. "Double it?"

"Why would I ever do that?" Prowl asked, aghast, and the red Twin looked up sharply.

"Because... Because I hurt you."

"And that gives me the right to seek vengeance?"

"Well... yeah."

"I'm afraid it doesn't, Sideswipe. However much I wish to send you to the brig for more time than is technically required, it is wrong. I would be playing favorites with myself. I would be abusing my power as Second in Command." Prowl steepled his fingers and gave the Twin a long, searching look. "I may be angry, but that does not mean I cannot control myself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. And I apologize. It... The prank was never supposed to hurt anyone."

"I know. Now. I believe you know the way to the brig?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Sideswipe?"

"Yeah?"

"In the future, perhaps, you should avoid certain corridors, such as those I frequent. I believe it would save you much trouble."

With a blink and a smile, Sideswipe nodded. "Will do, Prowl. And... thanks."

"Brig, Sideswipe."

"Right."


	7. Chapter 6 :: Credō IV

**AN: **Thank you to anyone who reviewed, TimeLordBud who offered encouragement, and LadyAnatar who is one of the best proof readers I have ever had. Another chapter for you! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 6 :: Cr****edō IV**

_I believe that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life. _

The Decepticons were closing in. Hordes of them. Thousands. Many of them living mechs, but there was a considerable number of drones among the forces.

They marched on the smaller force of Autobots; the slow, easy, unworried march of the invincible. The Decepticons knew they could not be beaten by this small contingent. They knew that Soundwave had blocked the Autobots' comms, so no help would be arriving. They knew that among these Autobots was the Prime. They knew that even with his strength, they, the Decepticons, would be victorious.

With over ten thousand against barely fifty, the odds were slightly in their favor, after all.

The Autobots knew this. Yet they would not stop resisting. They had managed to retreat into a small chasm, which allowed only two bots to pass abreast. This made it possible for the virtually infinitesimal force of 'bots to hold off the innumerable numbers of the 'cons.

Not without cost, however. No matter how many times they switched fighters, ensuring nobot got too tired, occasionally, someone would slip up, and weapons would find lethal strike-points, and a loyal Autobot soldier would fall.

"We're runnin' outta time, Prime," Ricochet snarled as he peeked around a bend in the canyon, peering out to where three of their soldiers were holding off the Decepticon troops. The three who were to relieve the fighters in a breem or so crouched behind boulders and shards of metal halfway down the bend.

"I know, Ricochet. But what can we do? Our numbers fall every orn, and the Decepticons have as many reinforcements as they need. If we retreat, they will follow and destroy us from behind. If we advance, they will still offline us all. If we stay, they will do the same."

The car-former frowned. "There's gotta be 'nother way. There al'ays is."

"I fear there is not this orn, my friend. We are trapped."

Ricochet snarled again. "Then if we're goin' down, Ah'm takin' as many'a them's Ah can with me!"

"A sentiment I return."

* * *

The Autobots held off the Decepticons successfully, with few losses, for another three orns. They would have been taken out sooner by the aerial forces if not for the steep, leaning walls of the canyon. No flying bot was able to get through. The edges of the crevasse above them curled in, creating a roof that had naught but a few small seams to let light through. They were essentially in a cave.

The Decepticons had suffered massive losses. The cold, deactivated frames of the offline warriors and drones created a series of large piles, set in the locations the Autobots had held them off. They had retreated farther into the canyons at numerous occasions. Optimus Prime and his Second, Ricochet, had decided that moving backwards, slowly, could be the only way to get them out with sparks still beating. It had been working. Occasionally, instead of sending the relief fighters up to those currently holding off the hordes, the fighters would fall back and the reliefs would set the new fighting ground. A sort of brutal, lethal, twisted game of leap-frog.

But it was not to last.

* * *

"Prime! They're rollin' in tanks, now! Ah think they're gonna try ta just blast th' roof out over us. Or behind us. Get us trapped, 'n then kill us all."

Optimus frowned at his Second's report. "This is... not promising."

"Ya can say that 'gain."

"What do you suggest, Ricochet?"

The blue bot was silent for a moment before he turned his visor on his pedes. "Ah know yer not gonna like this, Prime, but hear me out. Leave meh an' a small force a'hind t' keep 'em occupied while ya get out with th' majority'a our forces."

Optimus' sharp gaze bore into the car-former. "I cannot order my mechs to do that."

"Ah ain't askin' ya t' order it. Ah volunteer. As will a bunch'a other bots. Ah know they will."

"I cannot condone such an act!"

"Ya gotta, Prime! Or else th' 'cons'll get 'hold'a yer Matrix, th' Autobots will lose their leader, 'n th' war'll be lost!"

The two bots stared at each other for a long moment. A battle of wits, wills, and determination.

If anything rivaled the determination of the Prime, it was the determination that filled his bots, his soldiers, when he had to be protected. This determination proved stronger than the Prime's.

"Very well, Ricochet. But I will not order it, and neither will you."

"Alright, Prime."

As it turned out, no orders need be given. Ten Autobots, including Ricochet, were chosen to stay in the canyon while the others made their escape. And those ten had to fight for the position. Every Autobot in that dark, lonely cave wished to stay.

* * *

"Prime? Would'ja do somethin' for me? When ya get out?"

"Of course, Ricochet. What would you like done?"

With a long vent, the small blue bot disconnected his visor from his helm and handed it to the Prime. "Give that t' mah brother. Jazz. He's in SpecOps like meh, an' well on his way t' kickin' me outta th' position as Head, too. Tell 'im Ah knew what Ah was doin', an' t' remember me."

"Of course, Ricochet. I know Jazz. I was unaware he was your brother."

"Yeah, we thought it'd be better that way. Tell 'im Ah said bye."

"I will."

"It's been 'n honor servin' with ya, Prime."

"And you, Ricochet. Nobot could ask for more than you have given me and are willing to give me."

"Sure. Nobot should ever have t' ask, an' you ain't. Now get outta here. Lemme do my job."

"Goodbye, Ricochet."

"Bye, Prime. Good travels t' ya."

"May Primus light the way before you."

"Likewise."

* * *

Optimus Prime's contingent of thirty mechs traveled as fast as they could through the canyon, transforming and driving when possible, scrambling over boulders and metal shards in bipedal mode when not. It was an arduous journey, and they had not traveled far when a loud rumble shook the walls and ceiling of the cavern. The bots paused, looked back, and gave a wordless, quiet salute to the mechs who had stayed behind so that they might live.

"Come," Optimus called softly into the darkness. "Let us make sure that our companions' sacrifice is not in vain."

With that, the contingent continued on their way. Optimus walked on in silence, contemplating what he had done. What he had allowed. Had he given up too easily? Had he let Ricochet down by simply letting the ten soldiers stay behind to allow their escape?

With a painful throb of his spark, the Prime set his processors to getting out. He could worry and regret Ricochet's sacrifice later.

The contingent moved on, and, after three joor of travel, exited the tunnels.

* * *

It turned out that leaving had been a decision that would haunt the Prime forever. Ricochet had been a wonderful Second in Command and Head of Special Operations. Prowl, Prime's previous Third, and Jazz, Ricochet's younger brother, were just as good, if not better. However, Ricochet had been there from the start of the war. He had been Sentinel's Head of Special Operations since before the war, and Optimus' since Sentinel's deactivation.

_An instant_, Prime mused, vorns later. _A decision in an instant that changed me for the rest of my life. Ric was not the first bot to sacrifice himself for me, but he was the first one I was close to. Ricochet, if you could see me now. I know what you would say. You would tell me to stop moping, to get over it, that it was your choice and you don't regret it. But I do. We could have done _something _so that you had lived. An instant I will regret my entire life._


	8. Chapter 7 :: Credō XXI :: Part 1

**AN:** This creed's coming in two parts. So, the next chapter will be the second part of this creed.

* * *

**Chapter 7 :: Credō XXI**

_I believe that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, doesn't mean they do. _

Part 1

"You slagging creation of a glitch! That is ridiculous!"

"Well Ah can't say much more'a yer plan! Ya've got half th' army in plain view'a th' 'cons!"

"And your plan has them covered? It is simply placing other soldiers in the way!"

"Prowl, yer plan's got a thousand holes! Ya ain't usin' it! Ah ain't lettin' ya!"

"Oh, you aren't 'letting me', Jazz? Please, do tell me, who is Second in Command of this army? You? No? I did not think so. I outrank you, _love._"

"Realleh? Well, Ah've got th' 'sponsibility t' keep yer plans good an' wit' minimal holes! Ya ain't lettin' meh do mah job!"

The other mechs at the conference table watched the two mechs argue, all scared (and that included Optimus Prime) of interrupting. This kind of argument happened regularly. Almost every meeting involved an explosive argument between the bondmates. Occasionally it got violent, which was the other mechs' cue to leave.

"Your plan is no more effective than mine, Jazz! Actually, you have point zero four percent less of a chance of succeeding than I do!"

"An' ya're runnin' this through that oh-so-fancy battle computer'a yers? How oft'n d' battles turn out 'zactly like yer 'puter says?"

"More often than yours turn out!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes!"

"You sure 'bout that, Prowler?"

"One. Hundred. Percent."

"Ya weren't sayin' that after th' last battle."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah!"

The black and white and the silver were nasal ridge to nasal ridge, Prowl's golden optics reflected in Jazz's blue visor. Both of their servos were clenched, and their plating was rattling with barely restrained rage.

::Mechs, I believe that it is time for us to leave,:: Optimus commed his other officers. Ratchet gave a short optic roll as he stood and simply walked out. Other mechs followed; Wheeljack and Perceptor, Ironhide, and last of all, the Prime. He closed the door softly behind him, allowing the two to continue their argument. They all knew, including, probably, the participants in the argument, that after the fight, Prowl and Jazz would reconcile, sparkmerge, and come up with a plan much better than either had developed beforehand.

* * *

"You're a slag-helmed glitch!"

"You're a bit-brained fragger!"

"Dim-sparked idiot!"

"Lugnut!"

"Fragger!"

A snort. "Is that the worst you can come up with?"

"Your paint is scratched."

"WHAT?"

"Ha! Made ya look!"

"Sideswipe, you half-clocked, bolts-for-brains, fragging, glitching, slagging, Primus-forsaken _idiot!_"

"Wow, that was good, Sunny. You've been learning from Ratchet."

"DO NOT CALL ME SUNNY!"

"Sure, Sunshine."

With a growl, Sunstreaker slapped his brother upside the helm as he stormed out of the Rec Room. Sideswipe gazed after him for a moment, a small smile on his lips.

"You... you aren't worried? Or... insulted?" Smokescreen asked from where he was lounging across the table from the red Twin, a fan of cards held in his servo.

"Nah. I know he doesn't mean any of it, and he knows I don't mean any of it either. We're brothers. We argue. Doesn't mean we don't love each other. And I win, by the way."

"I beg to differ," the Praxian smirked as he lay his cards out. The red Twin examined them with a scowl.

"Frag. Fine." With a good-natured growl, Sideswipe pushed two energon cubes over to his friend. "Two high-grade cubes, as promised."

* * *

Part two coming soon...


	9. Chapter 7 :: Credō XXI :: Part 2

**AN: **School's starting in full force, now, so... updates will be fewer and farther between. I will do my best to keep up on this, though. ^.^

* * *

**Chapter 7 :: Credō XXI :: Part 2**

_I believe that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, doesn't mean they do. _

* * *

"And this camera here. If we moved it over by three inches and turned it to the right by three degrees-"

"-It would cover the hall more completely. I see. Thank you, Prowl."

"You are welcome, Red Alert."

The Security Director nodded and turned away, taking the datapad with him. Prowl left as well, though instead of walking down the hall, he walked farther into the Rec Room, toward the energon dispenser. He gathered a cube of energon, then walked to his usual table the corner. Smokescreen was sitting there, waiting for him, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Hey, Prowl."

"Smokescreen. May I help you?"

"Nah. Just thought I'd stop by and say hi."

"I was not late to my last psychological evaluation."

"No, but you didn't say anything during it."

"Your point being?"

Smokescreen sat up, the cards still in his servos. "Prowl, the point of the evaluation is to let me into your processors and thought processes, not keep me out."

"Fine." With a quiet vent, Prowl sat down. "We can talk here."

"In... In the Rec Room?"

"Nobody but Jazz bothers me while I am here. And he knows my processors just as well as I do, and much better than you do."

"I'd know yours better if you let me," Smokescreen grumbled. Prowl simply shook his helm.

"Smokescreen, I am entirely sane. Or at least as sane as anyone on this ship is." The last part was mumbled, if it was possible for Prowl to do such.

Smokescreen looked at him skeptically. "I believe I will be the judge of that, thank you very much."

Prowl just glared icily at the psychologist. The blue Praxian regarded him thoughtfully.

"Alright, Prowl. What is something you wish to talk about?"

"The meaning of life."

"Prowl."

"Where does Optimus Prime's trailer go when he transforms?"

"_Prowl."_

"How about how I deal with the insanity that goes on in this ship?"

Smokescreen growled and glared at his fellow Praxian. "Fine. If you want to be difficult. Primus, I work with such sparklings." Prowl gave an icy look at the diversionary tactician for that comment. "How's your relationship with Red Alert?"

The Second in Command raised an optic ridge, then took a drink of his energon before responding. "Professional."

"'Professional'? That's all?"

"Yes."

"Not friendly?"

"No."

"Why not? You two get on together so well."

"That does not mean we are automatically good friends, Smokescreen. You should know this, being a psychologist."

The gambler frowned at the ex-Enforcer. "You've never shown any dislike for Red."

"No. Nor have I shown any signs of friendship toward him. We are comrades and colleagues, and officers under Prime. We are required to work together, and we do it well. That does not mean we are good friends."

"Is there something between you? An argument?"

"You could say that, I suppose," Prowl said quietly, taking another drink. Smokescreen waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more.

"And what was this argument?"

"I do not wish to speak of it."

Frowning, Smokescreen nodded. "Very well. We'll finish this later."

"Oh?"

Nodding to the door, the psychologist motioned to Jazz. "He'll be over here soon. I'll leave you to it."

Prowl smiled faintly as Smokescreen left and Jazz took his place.

"What 'as Smokey here fer?" Jazz asked as he sat.

"He was... displeased at me for not talking during my last psychological evaluation."

"Ah. 'N he decided t' c'nfront ya when ya couldn' run."

"Yes."

"Wha'did he ask ya 'bout?"

"My relationship with Red Alert."

"Mmm. An' ya gave him th' 'coworkers not friends' speech."

"Yes."

"Hm. 'Kay. Now, Ah managed t' get these tickets..."


	10. Chapter 8 :: Credō XXIV

**C****hapter 8 :: Credō XXIV**

_I believe that your life can be changed in a matter of hours, by people who don't even know you. _

It wasn't like he chose this. He didn't want the responsibility. He didn't want the power, or the strength that came with it. He was a simple worker, who did his job, who strived to earn a higher standing in life, who really had no ambition other than to live life to its fullest.

He didn't want this. At all.

But it happened anyways, because Sentinel Prime decided he needed an heir.

* * *

The Council agreed with the Prime. With war brewing on the horizon, it would be smart to find a mech who could take the Matrix if all went to Pit and Sentinel was deactivated. So they decided on a date for the Choosing Parade, which occurred whenever a new Prime needed to be chosen whether there was a Prime still living or not.

The Matrix would be taken with the current Prime and paraded through the streets, first through Iacon, then in an ever-widening spiral around the planet, visiting each city, until the Matrix called to the mech or femme it wanted as its next carrier. Nobody ever worried about the Matrix being stolen, though.

Nobody could touch it without its permission.

It traveled through Iacon, then Helihex, then Pelliquium without a mech coming forward.

Then it got to Tyger Pax. The parade started as it always did, on the east side of the city, then slowly winding through, zigzagging through the twisting streets, moving up and down the different levels, covering as much of the city as possible.

Nobody expected the new Prime to be chosen in this crumbling city, though, so the convoy passed through quickly.

* * *

Orion Pax felt the tugging on his spark about a joor after starting work. He was unloading crates from a transport that had come from Praxus when he felt the first tiny pull. It continued tugging for another half a joor, steadily strengthening, until, finally, added to the pull came words.

_Come..._ it whispered. _Come. I call you._

Orion ignored it. He had work to do. Whatever it was, it could wait until his shift was over.

Over the next joor and a half, the tug increased to a steady yanking. It was strong enough that even his bondmate, Ariel, felt it.

~You should follow it, love,~ she whispered to him over their bond as she wiped down a table in the bar where she worked as a waitress. ~It feels... strong. Right.~

For a moment, the dock worker paused. Then he decided. ~I will go, dearest, if you come with me.~

The answer was almost instantaneous. ~Yes! Of course I will. The pull is strong for _me_, and I'm not even the one it's calling.~

~Then meet me on the fourth level Western Square.~

~See you in a breem, love.~

* * *

A breem later, the bondmates met, exchanged a kiss, and followed the tug.

It led them to the south-western corner of the city, where the parade was completing its circuit of the city. The contingent was just getting to the gates when Orion and Ariel, vents cycling hard and internals heated, caught up.

Sentinel Prime frowned as he felt a small tug at his spark, originating from the Matrix in his servo. He took two more steps before stopping, his mechs stopping around him.

"What is 't, Prime?" one of his closest advisers, Ricochet, asked, gazing at the Prime through his darkly tinted visor.

"The Matrix..." was the only answer he got as the large mech turned and walked back in the direction they had come.

Ricochet's optic ridges, hidden behind his visor, rose. Many of the other mechs around him copied the action. "Ya mean 't's found somemech here? In _Tyger Pax?_" the blue mech asked incredulously. Tyger Pax was not known for its good, noble, or honest mechs. Quite the opposite, actually.

To discover that the next Prime was coming from this run-down, dishonest, corrupt city was astonishing.

The Prime ignored everyone around him as he walked, in a daze, toward the crowd gathered around them. A large mech, vents heaving, blue and red paint scratched and faded, radiating heat, stumbled forward. A small, pink femme was at his side, grinning. She pressed against her mate's side and whispered in his audial.

None but Orion heard Ariel's whispered comment of, "Congratulations, Prime."

Sentinel finally reached the blue and red mech and his bondmate. "Mech, step forward and state your designation."

Orion nervously took a step, and Ariel allowed herself to fall in behind him. "Designation Orion Pax, sir."

"Orion Pax, the Matrix has chosen you as its next bearer. Do you accept this honor, along with the responsibilities that come with it?"

A quiet voice sprang into Orion's spark. _You are well suited. You will make an excellent Prime._

For a long moment, the blue and red mech simply stared, listening to the crowd around him, and contemplated his options. He could deny the Matrix, go back to the life he knew, the life he had always lived, or he could take the responsibilities and opportunities offered.

It was both a hard decision and an easy one at the same time.

"I accept."

"Then the Matrix renames you in accordance to your new position. Come forward and be welcome at my side, then in my place, Optimus Prime."

And his life was changed.


	11. Chapter 9 :: Credō XIII

**AN: **This one's for TimeLordBud, who mentioned that the last episode of TF: Prime was rather dark. I don't watch it, but... here's a little bit o' lightness for you!

* * *

**C****hapter 9 :: Credō XIII**

_I believe that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing, and still have the best time. _

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker lounging in the Rec Room was a common occurrence.

The smile on Sunstreaker's face, however, was not.

They weren't doing anything harmful – weren't even plotting some devious prank, despite what some people would claim. They were simply sitting on one of the large couches, TV turned off, staring at each other, the room around them, and the mechs coming and going.

Everyone in the Rec Room took glances at the quiet forms of the Twins, wondering what, exactly, was going on. Until Cliffjumper gathered up the courage to just go and _ask._

"Hey. Wha'cha doin'?" he said as he stepped up in front of him. The Twins looked up.

"Nothin'," Sideswipe answered.

"Not that it concerns you, mini-glitch, but we aren't doing anything," Sunstreaker answered.

To the astonishment of most watching, they sounded... sounded _sincere._ But that couldn't be right. The Twins were always plotting something. Or at least Sideswipe was.

"Ah..." Cliffjumper mumbled before finding his glossa. "Are... Are you sure you aren't doing _anything_?"

"Yup," was Sunstreaker's answer.

Sideswipe looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I suppose I'm venting. And my energon processors are digesting the energon I had a few breems ago. And I suppose I'm talking to you now. And my servos are moving, and my energon pump is pumping... But other than that, not really, no."

"Uh..." Cliffjumper mumbled again as Sunstreaker smacked his brother upside the helm.

"Idiot."

"What?" Sideswipe protested.

The yellow Twin just smirked and sat back. His red counterpart scowled at him for a moment before he turned to the red minibot standing next to them.

"You're welcome to join us in doing nothing, 'Jumper."

The minibot stood for a moment before shaking his helm and walking away.

The phenomenon continued for most of the day. The Twins sat quietly on the couch, talking civilly to anyone who approached. The most violent they got was when Sunstreaker decided his Twin said something stupid and swatted the back of his helm.

Then, about the time that Prowl would finally be getting off his triple shift, that little truce seemed to be ending.

For no reason apparent to the onlookers, Sideswipe poked his brother in the helm fin.

Sunstreaker ignored it, watching the TV, which had been turned on some time ago.

Sideswipe poked him again, smirking. Sunstreaker ignored him. The red Twin continued poking the yellow plating with his black digits. The yellow Twin ignored him completely. Until one finger found its way into a seam between two heavy plates of armor.

Sunstreaker let out an unholy screech, making many of the mechs in the room jump.

"SIDESWIPE!"

"HA!" was his only answer. The yellow Twin decided it was finally time to retaliate. He turned his servos on his Twin, seeking out gaps in the armor, twisting wires and brushing fingers over clusters of neural sensors. Sideswipe shrieked, writhing under his brother.

Then the red frontliner turned the tables, reaching up and twisting his fingers in his twin's side. Sunstreaker jerked back, and Sideswipe took the opportunity to tackle his brother into the couch.

"SIDESWIPE, YOU INFERNAL GLITCH, GET OFF ME!" Sunstreaker shouted. Many of the other mechs in the room were on their pedes now. Everyone had expected it to be _Sunstreaker_ to snap and go insane. Not Sideswipe.

But then Sideswipe shrieked as well. "NO! SUNNY! N- ACK!" he _squealed_, then dissolved into giggles as Sunstreaker pinned the red Twin's servos above his helm with one of his own and proceeded to _tickle_ is brother into submission. Somewhere in all this, they fell off the couch and crashed to the floor.

The Twins wrestled on the ground for a long time before finally falling away from each other, vents heaving, systems whirring loudly.

"Well," Sideswipe said after a moment, his voice loud in the silence. "That was fun."

He was rewarded with silence from the mechs watching and a snort from his brother.

"You scratched my paint."

"Suck it up. Take it like a mech."

Sunstreaker slapped his brother's shoulder, though the hit lacked any real force.

Jazz, from where he was sitting on the edge of a table, grinned and spoke up. "What prompt'd that, Siders?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "Dunno."

Jazz looked at him for a long moment, and it was obvious to everyone that his optic ridges were raised even though they were covered by his visor. Sideswipe didn't offer any more explanation, despite the look.

Unbeknownst to everyone watching, though, the Twins were communing silently across their two half-sparks.

~What _did_ bring that on, Sides?~ Sunstreaker asked.

~I was just thinking...~

~Oh, I thought I smelled smoke.~

~Hey! But I'm serious. We haven't really done anything like that since before...~

~Before we were gladiators.~

~Yeah.~

~But still,~ Sunstreaker prompted, ~We were doing nothing just fine together before you started the poking.~

~Hey, I'd happily do anything as long as you were there too, Sunny.~ The feel of a sweet smile and honest, cheerful wink accompanied the words.

~Same here, bro. Even slagging Decepticons is fun when you're with me.~

~Yup. Or sitting in the brig.~

~Well...~

~As long as we're together.~

~Right.~ A soft smile was carried in the mental voice.

~Good. 'Cause Prowl just called me down to his office. I think he found out about us painting Huffer pink...~


	12. Chapter 10 :: Credō I

**AN:** Sorry for the long wait! School's been murder, and this series or whatever has been stubborn. Thanks to TimeLordBud for encouragement, and LadyAnatar for the idea (and the edits)!

* * *

**C****hapter 10 :: Credō I**

_I believe that we don't have to change friends, if we understand that friends change. _

Bumblebee met Sam when he was in eleventh grade. Seventeen. A teenager. Not even an adult. He was bright, and happy, and, even when he was being pessimistic, always had a wry smile and his particular brand of sarcastic humor.

He was the boy. The one who took the AllSpark and ran from Megatron – and lived to tell about it (if it weren't for the non-disclosure agreements the government made all the humans involved sign). The boy who stood up to Optimus Prime without backing down, and later stood up to his government, even the President of the United States, to defend his friends, the giant transforming alien robots who crash landed in his backyard.

He happily let Bumblebee stay with him. At one point, the little human told his Guardian that there was a tiny corner of his brain that still melted to goo every time he remembered that there was an actual _alien _living in his garage/back yard – and said alien promptly called Ratchet about his boy's brain turning to goo, before Sam saw his expression and explained the saying.

The alien was stunned that this squishy little human so readily accepted him into his life. So easily called him a friend.

Bumblebee, in the privacy of his processors, vowed to be there for Sam for the rest of his life.

* * *

So he was there when Sam was struggling with school. Helped him study Earth's history, the mathematical equations, the primitive expressions of his classes. Took him for drives when it got to be too much. Quizzed him until he could answer without thinking.

And he watched, happy, as Sam showed his report card – one B, and the rest As – to his parents. Then smiled as the boy beamed up at him, the little slip of paper that meant so much in his hand, said, "Thank you, Bumblebee," and did his best to hug what he could of the robot's leg.

That hug, somehow, even though it was small, only around his ankle, filled Bumblebee with warmth.

* * *

He was there when the inevitable dumping occurred between the boy and Mikaela. Told Sam that there would be other girls when he cried. Told Sam stories of his exploits in the war back on Cybertron, to make him laugh. Made him forget, move on.

Bumblebee stuck with him through the two other high school girlfriends, and did the same thing for Sam when the boy dumped the first, and the second dumped him.

Sam would always hug him after one of their cheer-up-Sam sessions, whether after the breakups or after a tough session of homework, making Bumblebee's spark positively gleam in happiness. "Thanks, Bee," the boy would say, giving him a genuine smile before running off to bed.

In a secret part of his processor, the Guardian wondered how long this would last.

* * *

Bumblebee was there when Sam graduated, parked clean and sparkling, in the parking lot of the school. Sam waved his diploma ecstatically in the air as he ran toward his car. Some people looked at him strangely, but he ignored them. Had the robot been in bipedal mode, he would have grinned so hard his gears cracked.

Just under two years, they had been together, and Sam was still happy to let him stay.

* * *

Bumblebee was there when Sam went to college. Back in his "piece-of-crap-Camaro" form, he continued posing as Sam's car. He continued helping his boy with school, which took much more of their time than it had before. They had less time to drive. He had less time to spend as a robot, instead of a car.

For some time, in the middle of Sam's second year of college, Bumblebee feared a car was all he was to his boy. Sam rarely came to talk to him anymore. He rarely asked for help with his homework. He was spending his time with someone else

Bumblebee was worried.

* * *

But he was still there when Sam once again came to him after losing a girl. This one similar to Mikaela, in that all the jocks wanted her. Her name was Alice. Hot, blonde hair, and a slim body that was always being shown off with short skirts and tight tops. The boy requested that his Guardian just drive. Far, fast, and screw school the next day.

Bumblebee did the first two, but made sure his charge got to school the next day. He told him that ditching would only let Alice win more if he let her mess up his life even more than she already did. Sam agreed.

As he dropped the boy off at his dorm to get ready for school, the Guardian jokingly told him that maybe he should "check out" a girl before Sam decided to bring her home. To his surprise, Sam almost seemed to consider it before grinning, giving the car a pat on the hood, and telling Bumblebee he'd see him later.

The next girl he took for a drive, and, after the date, asked Bumblebee's opinion, a happy gleam in his eye.

* * *

Bumblebee was there when, two years later, Sam graduated college. His Bumblebee-approved girlfriend, Carly Spencer, a junior with one year left until earning her engineering degree, on his arm.

He threw his hat in the air, and Bumblebee watched, again as a car in the parking lot. Again, Sam ran to his car with his diploma, dragging Carly with him, passing off his eagerness to get to the car as eagerness to get her to dinner. He subtly waved his diploma in Bumblebee's direction, and when he sat down in the driver's seat and buckled in, Bumblebee tightened the seat belt slightly in a hug. Sam gripped the steering wheel in return.

Bumblebee knew Sam was changing. He was growing up. No longer a boy, even though he would always be _the_ boy. The Guardian wondered how long Sam would allow him to stay.

He would become accustomed to the aliens eventually, after all, and that little corner of his mind that melted to goo every time he remembered that his best friend was an alien robot wouldn't last forever.

* * *

Bumblebee was there when Sam proposed to Carly. It had been a normal day. Sam simply walked into Carly's autoshop the summer after she graduated, got down on one knee, pulled out a ring, and asked her to marry him. She accepted. Bumblebee cheered silently to himself – but at the same time, he worried.

Sam was growing up. Twenty two years old, getting married. And still with the same Camaro, though Bumblebee updated his alt mode every time his old model got a little outdated.

* * *

He was there when Sam and Carly tied the knot, so to say, finally as himself rather than a car. Everyone at the wedding was in the know – Sam's parents, Lennox and his family, Epps and his many children, even the pastor knew, as he was the captain of a NEST ship. Carly had been told a few weeks after accepting Sam's proposal.

Bumblebee was not there when the newlyweds went to bed that night, but he was close enough to watch for Decepticon activity.

* * *

He was there almost a year later when Sam rushed a very pregnant Carly from the house and to his door.

"To the hospital, Bee!" he cried as he helped his wife into the passenger side seat, then slung himself roughly into the driver's seat. Bumblebee tore out of the driveway.

He was there, ten hours later, when Ariel was born. When they finally got home a day later, the two parents allowed him to hold her miniscule frame in his gigantic palms.

* * *

Bumblebee was there as Sam became the ambassador between the Autobots and Humans. He stood behind the human as he spoke. Bumblebee was the boy's Guardian still.

* * *

He was there when Ariel was sent off to school on her first day of kindergarten. Sam and Carly watched sadly in front of him as the little girl, her backpack bigger than her body, climbed onto the bus.

The two humans and the Cybertronian watched as the bus carted her off.

* * *

Bumblebee was there when Sam watched his daughter go to her first high school dance. He was with him when she came home crying, because her boyfriend ditched her for another girl. He held them in his servos as his charge comforted her, like he had comforted Sam all those years ago.

* * *

He was there when their next child, a boy named Daniel, was born later that year, and when another daughter, Audrey, came into the world eleven months after her brother.

* * *

Bumblebee was there eight years later, when Sam stood in the stands as his eldest daughter graduated from college. He was there when the boy, now a man four and forty years of age, straggled over to the car and said, "Well, no diploma this time, Bee, but my daughter's got one."

The Guardian smiled internally and gave a happy buzz.

* * *

He was there four years later when Ariel was married, and Sam walked her down the aisle and handed her away.

* * *

He was there for the death of Carly, at age fifty, when a drunk driver t-boned her non-sentient, Earth-made car at a four-way stop. He held Sam against his chassis, over his spark, as the human cried at the loss of his beloved.

* * *

He was there as Sam refused the nannite treatments Ratchet offered the sixty-seven year old man.

"I'm an old man, Ratch'," the boy said. "I've had my run. Ariel and Daniel are doing a fine job in my place as ambassador. It's time for me to pass up the title."

* * *

Sam lay on the Camaro's hood, listening to the soft hum of his best friend's systems, and smiled. "We've had a great run, Bee."

"We did, Sam. I am surprised you kept me around all this time," the Guardian said softly. Sam sat up.

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends."

"Even through I'm an alien robot?"

Sam laughed, voice low and rough with age. "Of course. I know... I know I've changed quite a bit, from that little kid I used to be, but..."

Bumblebee gave the little hum that equated to a smile while he was in his alt form. "People change, Sam. I have, too. Yet you still stay with me, still ask me to stay."

Sam smiled. "Yup. Now... Bee... Can... can I ask you to do the same for my children? After I'm... gone?"

Bumblebee was silent for a long moment. Then, "Of course, my friend."

* * *

Review? They make my day! And if you've got any ideas for one of the creeds I haven't done yet, they'd be appriciated. ^.^


	13. Chapter 11 :: Credō XI

I was just considering how to do one of the credos when something occured to me - I already did it! Well, sort of. Not intentionally, anyways. But since the rules of forbid us authors from posting the same thing twice, I'll just post a link to the chapter/story I'm talking about and the credo, like so:

* * *

**Chapter 11 :: Credō XI**

_I believe that heroes are the people who do what has to be done, regardless of the consequences. _

www . fanfiction s/8807482/1/ When-Wise-Mechs-are-Banished

* * *

So, copy, paste, remove spaces, and enjoy!


	14. Chapter 12 :: Credō X

A/N:Figured it was about time I update this story. Not entirely pleased with it, but oh well.

* * *

**Chapter 12 :: Credō X**

_I believe that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, passion fades and there had better be something else to take it's place. _

"Fine. Take your stupid ring."

Those had been the parting words of Mikaela, as she had ripped the ring off her finger and flung it in Sam's face. The Autobots hadn't seen her since. They made a point of checking on her every now and then – the Decepticons were still on Earth, after all, and they knew of the girl – but they did so unobtrusively and quietly.

Sam had been distraught for something like two days after, but had quickly cheered back up.

Bumblebee, who was worried – first, that his charge was grieving too much, then worrying that Sam was getting over it too fast – finally just confronted the boy.

Sam shrugged. "It never would have gone anywhere. It wasn't love, Bee," he said with a smirk, shaking his head. "Just lust and teenage hormones."

"But you two..."

"I know. We've been through a lot. But we don't really have that much in common besides, you know, discovering an alien race together. We never would have made a very good couple."

"I... understand?"

"Good."

And that was that.

Sam dated through college. Bumblebee watched over him through it all, trying to figure out what, exactly, was it that made a human relationship work. He knew how relationships among his own kind worked; a mutual exchange of trust and affection. But these humans... though trust seemed to be a part of their interactions, it didn't seem to be the main thing.

At least, it didn't until Sam met Carly.

For a short time after they started dating, Bumblebee worried that, perhaps, it would end like it did with Mikaela. But then, as time passed, as they graduated, he realized something.

She was an engineering student. They met in Physics. The blonde was easily able to keep up with Sam's AllSpark-enhanced brain, for the most part (the notable exceptions being when Sam was whisked off into Cybertronian science, but those occurrences were becoming few and far between as the energies finally settled into their new carrier), which endeared her all the more to both the boy and his guardian.

That all added up to one thing; she wasn't like Mikaela. It wasn't something ruled by hormones or simple physical attraction. They shared something more. They liked talking to each other. They spent time doing what the other loved, spending time with each other. There was attraction, sure, but there was _more_ than just that.

There was trust. Just like the Cybertronians. Bumblebee was ecstatic to find it. Another proof that humans weren't just the chemical-driven organics some Cybertronians feared they were. They felt things. They thought. He had already known that, of course. One didn't spend years with a human and not see, not know that, but... this was reassuring.

One more similarity to bridge the massive gaps between their species.


End file.
